The Truthful Lyre
by Isabella101
Summary: Beneath Apollo's Lyre, Raoul promised to take Christine away from Paris.  They should've known that Erik would not let go so easily. After all, Erik always claims what is his.   A mix between Leroux , AWL and Kay. Dark!Erik, rated T just in case.
1. Beneath the Lyre

_**Summary: Beneath Apollo's Lyre, Raoul promised to take Christine away from Paris. They should've known that Erik would not let go so easily. After all, Erik always claims what is his. A mix between Leroux , AWL and Kay. Dark!Erik, rated T just in case.**_

**Hello there! It has been a while since my last, very disastrous attempt at a POTO story. I'd like to have think I have improved from the 13 year old girl that wrote "A New Phantom's Tale". Now at 16, I'm trying my hand again at this ****so please tell me what you think by reviewing.**

**I've had this idea for a while, but have only just recently got it down. I only have a couple chapters written out so far so if you want me to continue, please tell me so - you have no idea how much it would mean to me if you left me your thoughts. Hell, even constructive criticism is welcome. Anything to help me along with this story and my writing in general.**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, or its characters... as much as I wish I did.**_

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><p><strong>1881<strong>

**Winter**

"He terrifies me so," I clutched at Raoul's cloak, tears threatening to spill. His handsome face peered concernedly at me. His blue eyes filled with worry. His hand reached up to my face and wiped away one of the tears that had escaped.

In the dark, I could just see his face—the snow falling gently around us.

"We must leave here," he said firmly.

I opened my mouth to object as I had before, "But tomorrow night—"

He cut me off, "We will be on our way to my family home in Marseilles."

"But the performance! I must sing for him Raoul," I pleaded.

Raoul shook his blonde head, "He has you caught in a web, Christine, waiting to eat you as a spider would a fly. If you preform again you will become more entangled!"

I opened my mouth to protest but found that I could not contend with that logic. The more I stayed here, the more I would become poisoned by Erik and his imperious voice.

"We must leave here," my voice echoed his, faint even to my own ears.

"Let's leave now," said Raoul, taking my hands with his own, "We shall leave this opera house and its _ghost _for good."

I looked into his earnest blue eyes and thanked the heavens for the man before me. My saviour from the darkness. A let a small smile blossom on my face, my reward was his own dazzling one. And I couldn't help myself, I flung my arms around his neck, the hood of my cloak slipping off my head and releasing my brown curls to the rising wind.

I pulled back, beaming at him. Raoul looked at me tenderly and brushed away a few of the snowflakes that rested on my hair and face. His warm hand placed on my cheek, making my heart burst with affection. He bent his head closer to my own, our lips meeting in the middle.

The kiss was chaste and perfect, hinting of promise and happiness. I beamed at him as he told me that in Marseille we would be wed after our lips parted. I marveled at how he could turn my perfect misery and fear into perfect happiness and love. He took one of my small hands and pulled me towards the exit.

"We must leave now, there is no time to waste."

I followed him, my eyes looking once more to the god of music, Apollo. I felt something awry but dismissed it as I felt Raoul tugging my hand. I would be free, and there was nothing but joy in my heart.

†

Our bags were packed and ready in two hours. Raoul's brother, Phillipe, declined joining us, stating that he still had business here in Paris. By the time we actually left Paris, I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I sat next to Raoul in the luxurious carriage emblazoned with the de Chagny crest on its side.

My head dropped onto Raoul's comfortable shoulder and soon enough I was lulled into sleep despite the jolting of the carriage.

My dreams were filled with a crying angel. His great black-feathered wings shuddered with his sobs. They cloaked him from my sight. I wanted to go to him, comfort him, but I was being pulled away. I fought the invisible grip that was taking me from him.

I awoke when the carriage gave a particularly harsh jolt. I rubbed my eyes and was surprised when they came away with moisture. I must have been crying in my sleep. I looked over to the sleeping form of Raoul and gave a fond smile. I looked out of the window at the passing forest—the blurred green providing me with little entertainment. I soon fell asleep again, my face against the cool glass.

By the time I opened my eyes, the sun was already high in the sky. For fear of being caught up, we did not stop at the next town, or the next. Instead Raoul had mercifully thought slightly in front and had brought a loaf of bread. We ate, Raoul apologising every few minutes that he didn't get something more appetising.

I hushed him and said that it was a perfect meal. Frankly, I was happy to even be eating. We chatted happily for a while, ignoring the ominous clouds that were stirring. I fell asleep again in his arms and suffered no more dreams.

When I next woke we appeared to have just come to a halt. I looked around and saw that Raoul was gone. An unsettling feeling came over me as I peered out of the dark window. I waited a few moments before deciding to look for him. Hesitantly, I opened the carriage door and stepped out.

In the rapidly darkening light, my eyes searched for my fiancée's familiar blonde head. I spotted him a distance away, talking to the driver—gesturing to a large log that blocked the pathway.

"Raoul!"

His head snapped towards me, eyes at once filling with worry.

"Christine get back inside the carri—Christine!"

I only understood his sudden calling of my name as I felt an arm snake around my waist. I opened my mouth to scream but then a large, dirty hand came into my line of vision holding something silver. There was a deafening bang and I saw the body of the driver fall to the snow-covered floor, scarlet dying the pure white that surrounded him.

I felt it press against my throat softly and a rough, deep voice tolled in my ear unpleasantly. Tears prickled at my eyes as I watched the snow slowly becoming crimson.

"Scream an' I'll 'ave to cut tha' pretty white neck o' yours"

The knife pressed into my flesh a little harder, but not enough to draw blood. I gave a quivering gasp of fear and felt as though my heart was trying to beat it's way out of my chest. I looked to Raoul, standing horror struck, another grubby looking man in rags standing near with a smoking pistol aimed at my Raoul's head.

I felt tears sting my eyes as Raoul began to yell that he would do anything, give anything so long as the men let me go. I felt the man behind me give a chuckle, I wrinkled my nose at the smell of piss and body odour the was emanating from the man.

"Perhaps if we're feeling gracious. Though," the man gave another horrible chuckle, "I feel that we may need some good entertainment for tonight."

His body pressed in closer to my own and I gave an involuntary yelp. The knife pressed harder until I felt the skin beneath it break. I could feel the warmth trickling down my neck and onto the plain bodice of my dress.

The man's hand gripped my wrist so hard that I was afraid my hand might fall off. And with the knife still at my throat, he circled me until he was face to face with me. I took in his haggard appearance, his rotten yellow teeth, his bloodshot eyes, his malevolent dark eyes.

I trembled, paralysed with fear as he came closer. His dirty hand yanked my hair, forcing my face to turn upwards to his. His horrid breath fanned across my face as he spoke.

"Come on, dearie, give us a kiss."

The man leaned in closer. I shut my eyes to rid myself of this nightmare and then… _BANG_ the world was thrown into chaos. I was stumbling backwards and into a tree. My head collided painfully with it, forcing me to slump down to its base.

Through my starry vision I could see shapes. A particularly large dark shape that was moving so fast, that it looked as though some sort of rope was swirling about him like a whip.

_BANG! BANG!_

There was another shape, sparks illuminating a trembling figure at each bang. It also briefly illuminated the ground. There were three unmoving shapes. One with dark golden hair…

Dark spots swam across my vision. I didn't pay attention to the dull crack that followed, nor the dull thud as something heavy hit the ground. It was then mercifully quiet.

I put a hand to the back of my head, feeling a warm stickiness there. I pulled it away, barely able to see the dark substance that now coated my fingers. Something cold was being put to my face, an angelic voice sounding in my ear, speaking my name.

I closed my eyes. All I wanted was sleep. I heard an angel crying, and I gave a weak smile.

"Angel, you are too beautiful to cry…" my speech trailed off as my world fell away.

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><p><strong>Love it? Like it? Want to set it on fire and happy dance around the ashes? Just click the review button! I appreciate constructive critisism too :) Tell me if I should continue! Sorry if the characters are a bit OOC!<strong>

**Your Obedient Authoress**

**-Isabella-**


	2. Despair

**I just want to thank Li-Li-ThePinkbookgirl, Lady Luly, and DesireeBoils for your reviews. I also would like to thank all of you that favourited and alerted this story. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and also the story to come- I have a vague idea of where this story is headed but I guess it will have to be a surprise for all of us!**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, or its characters... as much as I wish I did.**_

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><p>"Can you play it again, Papa?" I said, giving his favourite toothless smile. My scrawny legs swung back and forth like a pendulum, knocking my knobbly knees together occasionally.<p>

"Christine," my father smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement, "How many times have I told you not to sit on the table? A young lady must learn to sit in her seat properly," his voice became matronly and had a feminine falsetto. He always did the best imitations of Mama Valérius.

I gave a laugh and was delighted to see that he had seemingly given up, his violin already under his chin and his bow in one hand. He played a piece—not the joyful melody from before, but a mournful, sorrowful one.

I felt tears slip from beneath my now closed eyelids. The music had stopped playing now.

_"Christine?"_

That was not my father's voice. It was His Voice.

Angel?

_Come to the angel of music…_

_"I did not mean to make you weep."_

I opened my eyes. Papa was gone. I was still in the tiny kitchen of my childhood home. My eyes searched fruitlessly for him, I called for him. My voice getting more and more hoarse each time I call.

"He promised me," I wept, "he promised me to send me an Angel."

_"Your Angel is here."_

_Inside your mind…_

My eyes flicked open. It was all black, too black. My eyes searched, trying to seek out some sort of light. Have I gone blind? I felt my face was puffy and sticky with dried tears, my eyes itchy and probably red.

The lyrical voice sounded in my ear again… My angel. Was I still dreaming? I tried to sit up, squinting through the dark. There was a dull throbbing in my head, and my attention came to my also sore throat and wrist. I fell back on what seemed to be extremely soft pillows.

I gave a yelp at the unexpected pain I found there. What had happened?

Two yellow orbs glowed above me. How had I not seen them before?

I reached out a trembling hand upwards and my fingers brushed against something cold and smooth. I began to see more light, my eyes adjusting. My fingers once again reached upwards.

A mask…

I gave a scream, scrambling back as far as I could. My head made contact with a wooden surface behind me.

I heard a clicking of a tongue and a dark chuckle.

"Now now, Christine, you wouldn't want to pull the stitches."

Stitches? Why would I be required to be sewn up like a piece of ripped fabric—Oh.

It all came back to me. The man's horrible breath on my face, the knife pressed to my neck, the sounding of gunshots, the bodies on the ground…

"Raoul," I whispered, tears beginning to well up.

"The boy is gone and it would be wise of you not to mention that name in this house again."

_Gone._

_He's dead. My saviour, my protector, is dead._

I felt a sob escape my lips, the tears now slipping. I gave a wail and put my head in my hands, sniffling and struggling to breath. I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, a voice soothing me, intoxicating me...

"_Don't. Touch. Me_," I managed to say between the shuddering sobs. I cowered away from the hand, misery overcoming me. I did not want to be comforted, there was no comfort for me. He was gone and dead. The little boy that had rescued my scarf from the sea, the man I had fell in love with. I did not notice the door open and close quietly, nor the sobbing just outside the door. I was in a kind of pain that no one could save me from now.

†

I went undisturbed for what seemed like a long time, the darkness gradually becoming a muted light. I did not want to look at my surroundings though, I did not want to be further reminded that I was not with my Raoul. My sobs continued, as did my wailing. I buried my face in the soft pillow to muffle the painful sound. It was easy to ignore the physical pain— in fact, I barely noticed it.

It was only long after my tears had seemed to have all been spent and my throat raw and painful, that I was disturbed.

A mousy looking woman who looked only a few years older than myself entered the room, bearing a tray laden with bread and some kind of broth. I refused to look at it as the girl set it down on the small table beside my bed.

"You must…_ eat_," her surprisingly forceful voice was heavily accented. I sensed that she didn't know much French. I shook my head forcefully, conveying the message that I would not, and could not eat.

"Eat."

"No," my voice was croaky and hurt as I spoke.

She repeated the command more forcefully, and once again, I shook my head. The woman sighed and shook her head, muttering something in her own strange language. She left the room looking particularly fearful. I fell into a restless sleep, dreams of gunshots and red snow filling my mind.

I wasn't aware of time passing. I woke, I cried, I rejected the food brought to me, I slept. I looked blankly up at the ornate ceiling, feeling to tired to cry and yet, not tired enough to go to sleep. I heard the door burst open, but did not have the energy to look at who it was.

"Marloux, she is wasting away…" it was Him.

Another voice answered, this one was booming and gruff, "Not to worry, Master. She shall eat, whether she wants to or not."

There was a bustling of skirts, and a face loomed over my own. She was middle aged, her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her light eyes were steely and hard. This woman meant business, and I doubted that she took well to rule breakers.

The woman barked an order for me to sit up. I blinked back at her, not quite comprehending what she was saying.

"You heard me, girl. I said sit up."

When I did not respond she gave a huff and firmly helped me into a sitting position. I stared blankly at the dark figure looming in the doorway. His black mask was still firmly in place, his yellow eyes unreadable.

My attention was ripped from the masked figure as my closed mouth was met with a spoon filled with broth. The brisk woman, I assumed was named Marloux, told me to open my mouth. I responded to her by opening my mouth a little.

The broth filled my mouth, running down my throat. I swallowed obediently when told to and then the process started again. After five spoonfuls of broth I felt sick. I moaned, and sunk back onto the soft pillow. Marloux sighed impatiently.

"Her stomach has weakened considerably, I don't think we can push her to eat the entire bowl, her body would just reject it."

There was a murmur in agreement and he spoke, "That will be all Madame. Your service is appreciated."

The women gave some words of appreciation before there was the sound of bustling skirts. The door closed, and I once again, drifted off.

†

The same thing happened, again and again. Madame Marloux would come in and tell me to sit up. At first I resisted, but soon I obeyed her voice. She feed me and stayed until she was sure that I would not bring the broth back up again.

I could feel myself getting stronger. The mousy woman I had encountered before took out my stitches, and my wrist was now only a bit tender.

But still the nightmares continued, as did the sobs. I wanted things back to the way they were before, to feel Raoul's comforting arms around me. My Angel of Music, or Erik as I recalled him naming himself as such, did not visit me. For that I was grateful and yet… I still wished for the comfort that his voice had brought me—just like it had when my father had died.

I pushed the thought away. He was a murderer, he was mad, he was a genius. He was not the angel I had believed him to be, and the thought of him being a living and breathing man, frightened me to death.

I had taken to walking around the room, not really seeing anything. I was beginning to feel as if I was going mad from the lack of human contact, the lack of light, and especially the lack of music.

After one particular horrible nightmare, I awoke to a strange, yet sweet sound. Music. A violin was being played, the tune loud enough to drift through the closed door of the room.

My first thought was that of my father. I could imagine him, standing in the small den of Professor Valérius while I sat at his feet, staring up at him with avid green eyes. I opened the door, and the music accordingly got louder. I could feel it moving my muscles, pulling my along to its centre.

I walked through corridors and past doors, following the sweet sounds of the violin. It was so beautiful that I could feel tears running down my face. My bare feet carried me to a door that the music seemed to be emanating from. Papa would be on the other side, he would open his arms and hold me to him…

The door opened to my touch without resistance. I could see a dark silhouette, the person's back towards me. The bow moving so fluidly that I could only watch, transfixed by it. A hand was moving along with it, long fingers dancing on the strings.

At a particularly sweet note I let out a gasp. The playing abruptly stopped and the illusion was shattered. The figure turned around and I was horror struck by the sight my eyes were met with.

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><p><strong>Please click the button below and review!<strong>

**Your Obedient Authoress**

**-Isabella-**


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